- Not writing on my book.
- Eating cookies and staring at the wall, thinking "what exactly is MC's motivation ..."
- Listening to Radical Face's new dropped music, thinking to myself how perhaps the answer to MC's motivation was in the song lyrics.
- Rolling over in bed and staring at the ceiling, asking Alex, "So okay, what if we just cut the orphans altogether? Just cut those little tykes out, and then that would free up a lot of exposition, I mean, what exact purpose do they serve?"
- Realizing Alex is asleep.
- Driving the commute downtown every morning and afternoon, listening to my iPod on random, praying that some amazing song will come on and throw me in the right direction of how to fix my book. I instead received "learn to live with what you are" by Ben Folds (all no-caps because I guess college-me couldn't be bothered to caps lock names of songs).
- Toasting a bagel, talking it out to the nearby hot dog steamer. "So if we keep the orphans," I said to hot dog steamer, "then we still see her altruism. You see what I mean? We probably can't cut the orphans. So what if her mom was on the ship?"
- Going to iHOP and the grocery store with my mother for some good quality time. "So do you think it'd be too much of a coincidence if her mother died and his father died? I mean, pretty gender-specific, don't you think?" and her answer of: "It would be the first relevant mother you ever wrote. You should call more often."
- Working out on the elliptical, trying to lose weight for that February cruise and ignoring the creepy guy who once told Alex, "Lucky ma-an" as I weight-lifted. In this particular instance this week, creepy man decided to wave at me, which prompted my thoughts to be, "So MC needs a real need to get her goal. Need and goal and Flaw. Need. Goal. Flaw. Need. Goal. Flaw."
- Playing "My Heart Will Go On" and "Always Gold" on my piano, while really attempting not to structure out MC's character arc in a scene-by-scene, writing out flash cards in my mind and imagining them stuck to the white wall in front of me.
- Reading all of the short stories on Tor.com and in my Nebula anthology, writing two new short stories, and definitely trying not to think, "These popped out so quickly. Why is the book so hard?"
- Buying my books for next semester, but flicking my eye to the open tab at the bottom of the menu. "DRAFT 10 29 2015" ......
- Looking at DeviantArt.
- Wikipedia-ing random towns in the US and imagining how awful it would be to live there while using street-view.
- Wikipedia-ing Alexander Hamilton's wife and sister-in-law to see how close Lin-Manuel Miranda was to true life.
- Debating whether or not to continue to use mouth-wash.
- Checking my eyes to see if they are both equally screwed with floaters, or if one of them is the culprit and I need to go to the eye doctor.
- Okay, but seriously, why is this story so hard to write?
- Feeling my wisdom teeth coming in and knowing it's only inevitable before I have to get them yanked.
- I'm sure there's a super easy way to fix this story and streamline it, I'm sure there is.
- Waiting for that ear infection to clear up.
- No, but really, I won't have to gut the whole thing. Oh, maybe it's just a useless story.
- Wondering if my ex-students saw me in my pajamas at the Wal-Mart.
- But like seriously, why is this manuscript the Rubik's Cube from Hell?
- I'm sure if I go into the document and put on the right music it'll just flow.
- It's not flowing.
- I'm not writing.
- Maybe I can clean.